by C. S. Quinn
His mental map of London reordered itself until finally he hit on a route and a destination where they could avoid the health checkpoints.
‘I know where we can get certificates,’ he said finally.
‘If you think to go to Guildhall it is a bad plan,’ snapped Maria. ‘We do not have time to wait to buy certificates.’
‘We are not going to buy them,’ said Charlie. ‘We are going to steal them.’
Chapter Thirty-One
The Royal Exchange was jammed full of shoppers jostling for a bargain amongst the enthusiastic attentions of the shop girls and apprentice boys. Plague had not come to this part of the City, and citizens were enjoying an opportunity to shop without risk of infection.
‘I think you should like it here,’ said Charlie, eyeing Maria’s fashionable dress. ‘Since this is a place for shopping.’
Two broad galleries ran the length of the Exchange, walled on either side by arched columns with shops in between them. And in between the bustle of bargain-hunters the shouts of retailers attempting to lure customers were deafening.
Maria glanced at the cheap drapers and costume jewellers. A curds and cream shop was making a lively trade.
A shop girl grabbed her arm, dragging her towards a fabric shop. ‘This colour is a good cloth for you,’ she said, pointing to the thin red material which made up her own low-cut dress. ‘I make the best price of any here.’
Maria wrenched her arm free and the girl drifted away towards other shoppers, unperturbed by the slight.
‘Why are we here?’ she asked as more hands assailed her. ‘This is not a place for certificates.’
‘I know an astrologer who has a room here,’ he explained.
‘You would have our fortunes told?’
‘Not exactly.’
His eyes drifted upwards, scanning for the name. And then he saw it, almost entirely hidden amongst other painted advertisements for astrologers, fortune tellers, dentists and apothecaries on the second level of the Exchange.
‘William Lilly,’ read the worn and peeling sign. ‘Astrologer’.
‘Here,’ he pulled Maria towards a set of stone steps leading to the next storey. They emerged onto the open second floor and a run of dusty small doors took the place of the large shops below.
‘Is he a friend of yours, this fortune teller?’ asked Maria.
‘No, I would not call him a friend.’
‘Then why do we go to him?’
‘Lilly has an arrangement with Guildhall,’ explained Charlie. ‘They send him copies of the Health Certificates.’
‘What for?’
‘To help him make better predictions. Plague certificates hold information on birthdates and occupations. That is useful to understand how the sun and stars make us who we are.’
Maria nodded, understanding. ‘So we steal two copies of Health Certificates?’
‘Exactly. We’ll find some husband and wife of similar ages.’
‘And the copies will pass checks?’
‘They are exactly the same as the real thing. Not many people know copies are made,’ he added.
‘And how are we to steal them?’
They had reached an ageing door. Large chalk letters covered it proclaiming: ‘Predicted the return of His Majesty in 1660 ten years before the event!’
Charlie lowered his voice and pointed. ‘See that storeroom next door? I can pick the lock and get in. These rooms are divided by partitions which do not meet the ceilings,’ he added.
‘So you will break in and climb over.’
‘Yes. And you will go in and have Lilly read your fortune. To distract him.’
Maria looked uncertain. ‘Is that not a godless business? Having your fortune told?’
‘So says the girl who visits a witch, when her family is ill.’
Maria coloured. ‘Very well. But I have no idea what I might say.’
‘He likes pretty girls,’ said Charlie. ‘Pay him your penny and he will do all the talking.’
As Maria approached Lilly’s door, Charlie slid carefully onto the partition and surveyed the room below.
Lilly’s room was decorated in faded wall-charts. Rotations of the sun, movements of the planets and arrangements of the stars were all documented.
Heaped everywhere were piles of paper. Health Certificates.
William Lilly sat behind a fat-legged table where the papers grew to almost a man’s height. His thick legs filled white silk stockings and his bulky body filled the black and gold breeches which had been fashionable before the Revolution.
He was scratching away with a feather quill. Charlie recognised something on the page. It was one of the noble crests, from before the Civil War.
Charlie swept his memory. He had seen the emblem by chance, over ten years ago, on a military banner. Why was Lilly using it now?
There was a knock at the door.
Lilly started and swept the papers hurriedly into his desk drawer.
Then he looked up from behind a pair of small gold binoculars.
‘Come in.’
Maria entered and Lilly’s face brightened slightly.
‘Hello my dear,’ he announced. ‘What can I do for you?’
Curtseying politely Maria came into the room. ‘I would like my fortune told,’ she said. And then, uncertain what was expected, she produced her penny and pushed it nervously towards him.
Lilly slid it into his desk drawer, never taking his eyes off her.
‘Of course. Please sit,’ he assessed her carefully. ‘I imagine with a healthy lady such as you are, it is a matter of love?’
‘Yes, that is it,’ Maria stammered, her cheeks getting pink.
‘I thought so.’
From the partition Charlie slid down silently, landing behind Lilly’s desk.
He waited for a long tense moment, hoping Lilly hadn’t sensed or heard him enter. But for the time being at least, Maria was doing her job. The astrologer’s eyes were all for her.
Charlie squatted down, hardly daring to breathe. Lilly was only a few feet away. He lowered his head, passing his eyes over an untidy pile of handwritten certificates.
Two leapt out at him. A man and wife aged seventeen and twenty-seven. That would work, he decided, sliding them into his shirt.
‘Are you to be married?’ he heard Lilly ask.
‘I am betrothed,’ said Maria. ‘Well,’ she added, ‘he will ask soon.’
‘And where is your betrothed?’
‘He left London a week ago. He has relatives in Sussex who might shelter him from plague.’
Charlie shook his head, wondering what kind of husband-to-be would leave his future wife to the mercy of the distemper. This was the first Maria had mentioned of a betrothed, and he did not think she was the type to make things up on the spot. Likely she had no strong feelings for the poor man and was marrying him for some family advantage.
Charlie was about to haul himself back over the partition when he noticed a feather quill.
The image of the lolling pigeon wing in the blacksmiths suddenly came to mind.
Something about that bird still troubled his thief taker’s intuition. And now an idea presented itself.
What if Thomas Malvern had taken a Health Certificate? If he had planned to get one from Guildhall he would have needed his own pen, to fill out his details.
Quill feathers weren’t widely available currently, for fear they carried plague. So Thomas might well have cut himself a feather at the blacksmith’s, for the purpose of writing a certificate at Guildhall. If he had, then a copy would provide invaluable information.
Behind Lilly he saw Maria’s eyes flick urgently. Questioning why he wasn’t leaving.
The astrologer turned to follow the direction of her gaze.
‘My betrothed wanted me to go with him,’ blurted Maria, ‘I had rather stayed.’
‘I see,’ said Lilly, his attention back on Maria. ‘It is to be a marriage of convenience then?’ he added.
The certificates seemed to be arranged alphabetically. Charlie’s eyes roamed the piles. The ‘M’s were on the other side of the room. He caught Maria’s eye and silently pointed.
‘My betrothed is a good man,’ said Maria a little too loudly. ‘And he will care for me. Tell me,’ she stood, ‘what does the map show Mr Lilly?’ She walked to the opposite side of the room and pointed to the colourful counties of England criss-crossed in blue and red lines.
Charlie had to hand it to Maria. She caught on fast.
Lilly moved out from his desk with effort to join her. The astrologer was heavy now, Charlie noticed. Lilly had gained considerable bulk since the war had ended. A diet of cheap pies had not agreed with him.
‘It is the Civil War campaign young lady. That map shows the paths of the Royalist and Parliamentary troops in the last months of war.’
His eyes followed the trails over the nation and he shook his head. ‘The armies were most evenly matched. Had one or two battles ended differently this country would have retained its King, and Cromwell would never have seized power.’
‘And this is a birth-sign chart?’ Maria pointed to another wall chart.
‘Ah yes,’ said Lilly. ‘You are Virgo are you not?’
Maria nodded.
‘The sign of the good wife,’ nodded Lilly, ‘but with hidden passion.’
Charlie smirked to himself. It did not surprise him that Maria’s marriage had been arranged. She didn’t seem too troubled with feelings. Probably it would keep her happy enough. There were times when he even envied people who could make such logical stock of their emotions.
Carefully he flicked through the ‘M’ pile.
Merryweather, Morris. The names hadn’t been put in any order besides first letter.
‘I am sure my feelings will grow for my future husband,’ Maria was saying.
‘Well,’ said Lilly, ‘let us find out. Come sit and I will read your palm.’
Charlie froze. If Lilly turned he would see him stooping above the pile of certificates.
‘What do you think of this Mr Lilly?’
Charlie looked up in amazement to see Maria had pulled down the top of her dress to expose almost all of her left breast. Only the position of her hand concealed it from view.
Lilly’s attention was riveted to where she was standing.
The astrologer opened and shut his mouth, craning forward for a better look. For a moment his hand moved of its own accord towards Maria and then he snatched it back.
‘I have had it since birth.’ Maria wore an expression of innocent curiosity.
‘I think it is only a mole,’ managed Lilly. ‘But perhaps the shape means something.’ He tugged at his shirt, as if uncertain where his hands should be.
Mercher, Marrow, Charlie continued to flick.
‘A crest of sorts,’ Lilly was saying hoarsely. ‘Perhaps you have some noble blood.’
Malvern!
Charlie could hardly believe his luck. He rolled it up and slid it carefully into his shirt. Then he stepped back carefully to the partition and hauled himself over it.
‘Oh that is true to be sure,’ Maria was saying. ‘Our family were of a far finer sort, before misfortune saw us move to London.’
Her eyes followed Charlie over the partition.
‘Thank you very much Mr Lilly,’ she announced suddenly. ‘It was a very good fortune.’ And she swept suddenly out of the room, leaving an open-mouthed Lilly in her wake.
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘What were you doing in there?’ Maria was outraged. ‘We were nearly both caught.’
‘I was enjoying your birthmark.’
Maria’s face turned to outrage. ‘How dare you? It was to save your skin.’
‘And hearing about your future husband,’ continued Charlie, with a roguish grin. ‘He sounds like a lucky man if you might calculate a way to fall in love with him.’
‘I was just saying anything that came into my head. I meant nothing by it.’
‘I hope you never try at cards,’ said Charlie, ‘you are a bad bluff.’
He held up a certificate. Maria snatched it.
‘Thomas Malvern!’ She gave him a sudden smile. ‘He has taken a certificate. That is very clever of you to think of it.’
She frowned at the paper.
‘He writes his religion as Catholic,’ she observed.
‘Which means he fought for the old King,’ said Charlie. ‘Look at his date of birth. He would have battled in the civil war. And he was a Royalist.’
Maria looked confused, and he realised she was too young to remember the Civil War.
‘The last King Charles turned Catholic,’ he explained, ‘that faith allows Kings to rule as tyrants. They believe man-made laws need not apply to Kings.’
‘So the old King acted tyrant?’
‘Yes. And England is a Protestant country. Most people believed that they should be ruled by parliament as well as a King.’
‘And they fought about it?’
‘For years. It was ugly and brutal. And the old King’s followers were aristocrats, Catholics or both,’ added Charlie.
‘So this Malvern supported the King?’
‘Without a doubt. And if he seeks to arm an uprising, he is probably one of those many poor Catholics who have been betrayed by King Charles II. For none of them got their lands back when he returned.’
‘And he makes some witchcraft to see his plans succeed?’ asked Maria, frowning.
Charlie thought about this. It was the part of the plan which made the least sense to him.
‘Perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘Though it is a strange mystery. Everything we know about Malvern suggests he is high born. Or at least was once. He must have access to royal places in London. For his raven was likely taken from the Tower. He can cut his own quill. And his writing is educated.’
Charlie pointed at the certificate.
The writing had the confident shape of a man who wrote often. Unlike the careful loops on Maria’s Health Certificate, which suggested she’d paid close attention to a writing tutor, but didn’t apply the skill in practical frequency.
‘The certificate tells us something more important,’ added Charlie. ‘He is leaving London. See you his destination.’
Maria’s face fell. ‘Wapping. That place is deep in plague,’ she whispered.
Wapping had been one of the first places Londoners had fled to when plague had broken out. It was a few miles away from the infected city. But now the small town was thick with the illness.
The plague stories which came from Wapping were so terrible that many dismissed them as make-believe.
‘That date is today,’ added Maria, ‘he leaves town today. Why should he want to travel to Wapping?’
‘Why should he want to leave at all?’ asked Charlie. ‘It makes no sense. This man makes careful murders. North and East. Why should he suddenly halt his plans and leave the city?’
Maria shrugged. ‘Perhaps Wapping is South. Is that not next? For fire?’
Charlie was shaking his head. ‘It does not feel right.’ He frowned. ‘These murders. They would not happen close together in London and then far apart.’
‘Something has upset his plans then?’ asked Maria, hopefully.
Charlie frowned. ‘Perhaps.’
He thought for a long moment.
‘Or.’ He said slowly. ‘Something has happened to speed his plans.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What if some event has occurred, which makes his invasion suddenly more achievable? What if he hurries now, to complete his scheme?’
Charlie swallowed, remembering Rowan’s warning.
‘The King. There is talk he will leave London. What if this Malvern, this high-up man, what if he knows more than us? What if the King flees soon? And Malvern rushes now, to make his uprising?’
‘Then why go to Wapping?’ asked Maria.
Charlie thought for a moment. ‘There is a port at Wapping.’
; He grabbed up the certificate. ‘Which gate does he leave from?’
Maria peered to where he was pointing. ‘Bishops Gate,’ she said.
‘That is the large gate for wagons and carts,’ said Charlie. ‘There is no reason to choose that gate were he on horseback – it would be far slower. Perhaps he uses a wagon to make some delivery of his weapons to a foreign enemy.’ Charlie was thinking out loud, but none of the reasons were striking him yet.
‘Malvern could not import anything,’ he added. ‘All water routes are closed since plague came. Even a high-up man could not use his influence to import goods.’
Maria’s face was shining with hope. ‘If he travels by cart we can outpace him,’ she said. ‘We can take horses and make the journey faster.’
Charlie nodded, making a quick calculation. ‘Even if he drives the smallest wagon with good horses we should be twice as fast,’ he acknowledged. ‘And we may take smaller roads where he must stay on the larger.’
Maria’s gaze settled on Charlie. ‘So we must determine to be better friends,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Because we need each other, Charlie Thief-Taker.’
‘Why should you think, Maria, that I might ever need something from you?’
‘Because I have money to hire horses and know the ways of the country besides. I’ll wager you have never even left London.’
Charlie felt his jaw tighten. The truth of the statement made it no less irksome.
‘And I cannot easily travel alone as a woman. I need protection. You might do very well for that.’
‘Besides,’ she added, seeing him still hesitate. ‘I will pay you very well. A guinea a day and a further five if we catch him.’
She drew out her purse. ‘Here is two in advance,’ she added.
Charlie hesitated. His hand moved to his key.
‘Take it,’ she said, pushing the coins into his other hand.
‘Wapping is not more than a few miles,’ said Charlie, as his fingers slowly closed on the money. He was trying to calculate how much time he could spend with Maria without doing her bodily harm. ‘But the route is no longer direct. Vigilantes seal the roads to the south. We must head north and take the long way around the countryside to get there.’
